Return to Hillwood
by ReedH
Summary: Arnold moved away from Hillwood city in the middle of his Sophomore year in high school. After losing touch with everyone he once knew, Arnold returns 10 years later to find a ruined city. What will he find in the wasteland that was once Hillwood?
1. Chapter 1

After leaving Hillwood city 10 years earlier in the middle of his Sophomore year, Arnold returns only to find it a crime-ridden, decaying shadow of the thriving metropolis it once was. What has become of his friends during his absence? What will Arnold learn about the city of Hillwood and how it came to be the wasteland it is?

Very dark story. In the first chapter there's only one swear-word, but I imagine once I get rolling, the content will go up, so be warned – if you can't handle language, go ahead and put this one away.

Inspired by a comic written by MarcosBnPinto. It can be found on DeviantArt. Check it

out if you get the chance! It's very well done, if I do say so myself.

Review! There will be multiple chapters, so be ready for some reading.

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><p>Chapter 1.<p>

As I looked up at the rusting, faded street sign on the corner, it all came back to me. All of the games of baseball and football, the steep hills and bike rides, the snowy winters, the urban legends and the bus rides to school.

But none of that was here anymore.

It wasn't necessary to decipher the illegible white print on the ancient street sign to know that this was the place. Even through the boarded-up windows and grimy brick walls, I could tell that this was the building I wanted.

"This used to be Sunset Arms..." I muttered to myself.

I wondered what had happened to bring it to this state of decay. It was still habitable, but it looked as if it hadn't been taken care of for quite some time. Most likely not since...

I pushed the thoughts from my mind, hiding them under a dark blanket of suppression. Of course, I knew it wouldn't be the last time the thoughts surfaced, but for now, I'd hold them back. This wasn't the time.

I climbed the five steps to the rotting green door. I half expected a slew of small animals to come rushing out of the doorway as it creaked open, but there was nothing except for dust and darkness beyond the threshold. I reached up and lifted my worn blue cap from my head and clutched it tightly in my left hand. My eyes slowly began to adjust to the gloom in the entry hallway. Time had not been kind to this building.

I called out, not particularly expecting an answer.

"Hello?"

The only reply was the settling of the stairs and the cobwebs gently wavering from a draft originating from somewhere unseen. I slowly ascended the stairs, taking care not to step on a rotten board and fall through. The second floor of the building was just as ravaged as the first seemed to be. There were several doors that had been torn from their hinges and thrown to the floor, some were broken into several pieces. As I passed the rooms, I remembered the boarders that once inhabited them; Ernie and all of his cornerstones, Mr. Kokoshka and his wife Suzie, Mr. Hyunh, and even the recluse, Mr. Smith. The shattered remains of his keypad still hung by the door of what was his room. I didn't even want to think about what might be in the secret compartment in the floor in front of the door.

I reached the end of the hall and looked up the stairway at the door to the room I'd lived in for so long. This was a moment I truly dreaded. I had no idea what had become of the room I called home after I left Hillwood all those years ago. I lost touch with everyone by my fifth year of absence. Surprisingly, Sid was the last to vanish. I guess he still felt some obligation from the time I saved his life. Regardless, he'd disappeared just like the rest. I'd heard rumors of what went on in the boarding house and throughout Hillwood after I left. None of them were good...

Each stair creaked as I climbed the stairs for what seemed like an eternity. I extended my trembling hand and grasped the tarnished doorknob. Slowly, I opened the door to the shadows within. To my surprise, it was in better shape than the rest of the building. Granted, it was still in a rough state. The stained carpet was peeling from the floor at the corners and the wallpaper was faded and covered in filth. Thankfully, the previous proprietor left a bed frame and a mattress in the room, however disgusting they may be. At least it gave me a place to sleep for the night.

I laid down on the mattress, the frame groaning from the stress of my body weight. I sighed and let my thoughts begin to wander. I couldn't help but wonder where everyone had gone. As I'd walked to the boarding house earlier that day, there had been no one in the streets, no faces peering through the windows. Hillwood had been such a lively place... Where had it all gone?

A lot can change in ten years, that much is for sure. I rummaged through the bag I'd brought along, bringing a flashlight and a small pink book to the surface. After all these years, I'd still never opened it. When she gave it to me so long ago, I vowed never to open it until I returned to the city. I supposed now was as good of a time as ever. The spine cracked as I pulled open the cover. Inside were poems and musings written in handwriting that began as juvenile chicken-scratch, gradually evolving into the eloquent, flowing cursive of the girl I knew when I was 16. I couldn't believe what I was reading - had she really felt all of this? How could I not have noticed it?

"Damn, I was dense..." I thought, "She must have felt absolutely terrible..."

We'd become such good friends in the year or so before I had to leave. Why did she never say anything? The more of the book I read, the more I remembered the way she was that last year. She'd become rather attractive in her adolescence. I could only imagine what she looked like now. The only way to know was to find out what became of her. Right now was not the time for searching, however. The sun had gone down since I'd entered the dilapidated building and I didn't want to risk wandering these streets at night, even if I did know them. They weren't the same as they used to be.

Nothing was.

Even this boarding house – the only place that really felt like home during my childhood, the only place where I really felt like I had a family – was nothing but a ruined temple designed by dark worshipers of the past. It had been destroyed by the very city, and for all I knew, the very inhabitants, that once held it together. All that remained was a hollow shell resting a few feet back from the cracked asphalt that cars no longer traversed. Not even the bus routes were active anymore. Traveling through the city would prove to be difficult.

I laid back down on the mattress and turned off my flashlight. Even through the cracked and crusted panes of the glass ceiling, I could still make out the moon and a few stars. At least I still had my view to comfort me. I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the small journal held close. She meant more to me than I had realized. I had to find her and let her know. I had come back with the intentions of finding everyone, rediscovering the past and tying off loose ends, but this little pink book had changed everything entirely. Another goal had been added to the top of the list.

I had to find Helga G. Pataki.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

I awoke to a pale brown light seeping through the windows on the ceiling, accompanied by the soft patter of rain. I sat up and swung my feet over the edge of the bed and stretched my stiff arms and legs in an attempt to relieve the pain brought on by a night's sleep on an unfamiliar mattress. Now that it was light, it was much easier to see the layers of dust and dirt collecting on all surfaces in the room. Everything had become a mottled gray color, only a ghostly reminder of the vivid blues and purples that used to fill this room.

I stood, picked up my backpack and crossed to the door. I made my way back down to the main level and began to look around. The whole place was trashed. It was quite obvious that the building had been occupied by several different vagrants at some point, though likely not at the same time. I cautiously made my way across the cluttered floor of the kitchen, through to the main hallway and out the front door.

The city looked excessively dismal, even during the day. The dark gray buildings jutted up from the sidewalk like crooked teeth, contrasting harshly with the pallid white sky. It just wasn't the same. Even the bright green exterior of Art's Shoe Store had lost its luster. I pulled the brim of my hat lower to shield my face from the gently falling rain and took a left down the street. There was no telling what I would find out here in the streets.

I began to aimlessly wander the deserted streets. I had no idea where to even begin my search. All I had to go on was a small pink journal, and there weren't even any kinds of clues in it. It was all written long before Hillwood fell into the shadows. I kicked an empty beer can and it skittered noisily across the cold sidewalk, stopping abruptly at the base of a wooden fence. I glanced up from the sidewalk to see what was beyond the fence.

"Gerald Field..." I whispered to myself, "Maybe there's at least something here."

In the days of my youth, Gerald Field had been an exciting place where we would all gather and play baseball, kickball or whatever sport we felt like playing. By the time I came back to it, though, it was covered once more in trash and forgotten appliances. The site was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. I walked up to a broken washing machine that sat where home plate used to be. It was dented and covered in mud, grease and... There, on the bottom corner...

"Is that...? Bl-"

"Well, I'll be damned. Will you look who's come back from the far reaches of the known world?"

I'd recognize that slow, measured drawl anywhere. I turned around to find myself face to face with someone I'd never expected to see again. Last time I saw him, he'd been holding a baseball bat. This time, however, he was carrying a length of metal pipe with what seemed to be nails stuck through it. It was dripping with a thick, oily substance tinted a bright crimson.

"I thought you were gone for good, Arnold. I hate that you had to come back to the city with it like this."

"Always a pleasure, Stinky," I said.

I knew I would have to choose my words carefully. Here I was, cornered in Gerald Field with no way to protect myself and Stinky standing between me and the road clutching a lead pipe coated in blood. There was no way to know what his intentions might be. It always was hard to tell with Stinky.

"You know, Arnold, you really shouldn't have come back to Hillwood. I reckon it's a bit more dangerous than the last time you were here."

"Yeah, Stinky. I noticed things were a bit different."

It didn't seem that he wished to harm me, though his weapon was a bit unnerving. I took a step towards him slowly, prepared to leap out of harms way should he become volatile.

"So, Stinky... Care to tell me what's going on here? I know I've been gone for a while, but..."

I wasn't entirely sure what words to use. No shit, things had changed. This wasn't the city I'd grown up in at all. The bright colors that had once painted the buildings were now blended together into a monochromatic landscape that left a bitter taste in my mouth and a feeling of deep despair in my heart. Seeing the bloody weapon Stinky carried scared me even more. It reminded me that some of the people I once knew could be dead by now, and quite likely at the hands of someone they had once called a friend.

"Hmm... Well, I'm not quite sure where to begin," droned Stinky, bringing up his free hand to scratch his head through his fine brown hair. Even after all these years, he hadn't changed it. He was still the same old Stinky, at least in appearance. "I think it may be better to discuss these things somewhere safer. This is dangerous territory, and it'd be best if we got out of here."

Stinky motioned for me to follow him and turned to walk out of Gerald Field. His long, thin legs took giant strides that carried him quickly down the street, almost to the point that I had to struggle to keep up. I wasn't sure if I would even be safe where he was taking me, but he had given me no reason not to trust him at this point. Stinky seemed harmless enough, but until I actually had a chance to speak with him, there was no way to know for certain.

We followed a chaotic, circling route through back alleys and around various buildings for what seemed like hours. It all looked the same now – not like back then. Everything was so unique. I knew every secret path and every shortcut. I could get from one end of the neighborhood to the other in a matter of minutes. With Hillwood's ruined state, however, it would have been nearly impossible for me to navigate it on my own.

Finally, Stinky stopped and crouched low behind a dumpster, allowing only enough of his head to protrude to see what was on the other side. He waved his hand, signaling for me to do the same. He turned around and looked me dead in the eyes. I could see that he'd been through a lot of hard times in the past ten years. This was not the same Stinky I'd known. He'd grown tired and weary from living in Hillwood, but what had caused his hardships, I still did not know.

"We're almost there. It's just on the other side of this street. Stay close," he instructed.

We stood up and began to slowly make our way across the street, out in the open for the first time since I'd begun following Stinky. I looked forward to see where exactly it was Stinky was leading me. The realization hit me like a crate of cinder blocks.

"Mighty Pete!" I quietly reveled.

It had been years since I visited this tree. It had been since before I moved away, maybe as far back as middle school. I was amazed that it still stood, taller and mightier than ever. The tree house remained in its branches, the rope ladder still swinging close to the trunk. The ladder had obviously been replaced since the last time I had used it, however. The rope was too fresh to be the original ladder. We approached the tree and began to climb the ladder. Who or what awaited me inside the tree house? As Stinky lifted the hatch and climbed inside, I was greeted by a strange odor. It was sort of a mixture between alcohol, smoke and iron. Not knowing what would happen next, I hoisted myself through the dark opening and into the fort.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

It was dark. Not pitch black, but dark enough that it took more than a few moments for my eyes to adjust. The smells that had invaded my nostrils were strong, but the metallic bitterness was by far the strongest. I sensed that there were others in the room besides Stinky and myself, though I couldn't tell who. My eyes had not yet completely adjusted to the environment. I felt my way blindly to a wall and sat down with my back against it. I needed to rest my legs from the amount of trekking they'd been subjected to through Hillwood. The floor was cold and hard, but still had the texture of the planks we'd used to construct our hideout.

At least that much was still the same.

I could hear whispering across the room – loud enough that I could tell it was a frantic conversation, but low enough that I couldn't discern any words. By this time, I was able to make out the shapes of the others in the room. They weren't people that I recognized as far as I could tell, but I barely even recognized the city anymore, so my perceptions weren't reliable.

"You're shitting me, right? Are you sure he's not an alien or something?" Asked one of the silhouettes.

"I reckon I'm positive, on account of he didn't have but one head and his skin isn't gray," replied Stinky.

"Well, where is he? I want to see the sonuvabitch! It's been years!"

"Sid, is there really a need for such language? There are thousands of words in the English language to choose from – you don't have to use _those_."

At that point, I was positive that Sid was in the room, not only because the third person had used his name specifically, but his paranoid mannerisms were a dead giveaway. A lighter flicked and I caught a glimpse of his stringy black hair and backwards cap. It was Sid, alright. He hadn't changed a bit, either. I heard him inhale and saw a faint red glow in the darkness. After a length of silence, he exhaled. I could smell the smoke from where I was sitting. It had a very earthy, organic smell to it – a smell not characteristic of tobacco. I knew that smell. It was the smell that had followed Sid everywhere from the beginning of junior high until the time I'd moved away.

The third voice was familiar, but I couldn't put a face with it. It was obviously female – light and breathy with a distinct air of intelligence. I wracked my mind, trying to piece my memories together, but everything was starting to haze over and go blurry around the edges, sort of like photographs dropped into a puddle.

Why did she sound so familiar?

A flashlight clicked on and pointed in my direction, leaving me temporarily blinded once again. I felt two sets of arms wrap around me in massive bear-hugs that I couldn't return since my arms were pinned to my sides.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" The female voice exclaimed.

The glow of the flashlight faintly illuminated her facial features. She had greatly matured since I'd last seen her – her glasses were thicker and there were faint streaks of white in her hair – but she was definitely the same old Phoebe. The part that caught me off guard, though, was the fact that she'd taken up residence with Stinky and Sid. I had never really known her to associate with either of them, but things had obviously gone to hell around here. Maybe she'd had no other option.

"Good to see you too, Phoebe – Sid," I said, rubbing my still sore ribs.

Sid continued to puff out thick white smoke into the darkness, adding further to the strange smell of the room.

"So what exactly is going on here? Where is everyone?" I asked.

Sid's face grew solemn and Phoebe's eyes dropped to the floor. A grim silence filled the small room as Stinky stood to hang the flashlight from the ceiling. He crossed to where we were sitting and knelt down beside Sid. The three exchanged sad glances and then looked at me. All three had the same weary look in their eyes. I knew that what I was about to hear would be hard to listen to.

"Sid?" Stinky inquired, turning his head to face the man, "Could you give us some introduction? I figured you could on account of that always used to be your job."

Sid thought for a moment and replied,

"Well, I haven't done an introduction in a while, but I suppose since it's a special occasion and all, what with Arnold being back, I can come up with one more."

Sid sat back on his heels and took a few deep breaths. He lifted his cap for a moment and ran his fingers through his greasy black mop of hair, still exhaling massive clouds of smoke. He replaced his hat, cracked his knuckles and began to speak.

"The Story of Hillwood is an ongoing legend, passed down for over 3 years. Very few people know where it started. No one knows just where it's going to end. Some say it was caused by a void created when you left, Arnold. Others say it would've happened even if you'd stayed. Seeing as the keeper of legends isn't around to tell the tale, I'll give our very own Stinky the floor. Stink?"

"Thank you kindly," droned Stinky, "Phoebe, I reckon if you have anything you'd like to add, just go right on ahead and say it as it comes to you."

"I will, Stinky," Phoebe answered shakily.

"Like Sid said, it all started about three and a half years ago, as least as far as I can recall. There may have been more to it that what any of us saw, but I reckon I wouldn't know."

At this point, Stinky looked around at everyone once more before continuing. They all nodded and Stinky pressed onward.

"It was a cold day, about mid-November, and everything seemed right normal to me. Sid and I had just left the city jail on account of we were visiting Harold. He's still there as far as I know."

"I told him he shouldn't try to steal the mayor's car, but he just wouldn't listen to me," Sid interjected.

"Anyways," Stinky continued, "We'd just left the jail and were walking to Mickey's Dog Pound for some dinner. We took a detour through Tina Park on the way there, which I reckon wasn't one of our better ideas. As we entered the park, we noticed there was all kinds of hootin' and hollerin' going on about a hundred feet up ahead."

"I didn't want to go," said Sid, "I told him it was none of our goddamn business."

"I think I can add some here," stated Phoebe, "I was there, too. As Stinky said, there was a bit of a commotion in Tina Park. Gerald -"

Phoebe's voice faltered here for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Gerald and I were out walking that evening and were close by when the whole mess started. At the center of the chaos was a man neither of us had ever seen. He was wearing strange clothing made from some sort of leathery fabric. He was ranting about how filthy our city was and how it needed to be 'cleaned up.' The people around him were shouting insults and telling him to return to wherever he'd come from."

Sid cut her off here.

"Over the next twenty-four hours, all hell broke loose. Men in the same type of clothing began patrolling the streets of Hillwood. They said they were from some kind of 'top-secret agency.' They marched around in squads of three or four and carried around huge guns, killing off anyone they deemed 'unfit' to walk around in our society."

"Until one day," Stinky picked up, "Some of us decided to fight back on account of we were scared that we'd be next. We gathered anything we could use as weapons from metal pipes-" Stinky motioned at the fearsome instrument he'd been carrying earlier, "-To simple kitchenware. We started taking on the squads one by one. We thought we were thinning them out at first, but it seemed like the more of them we killed, the more of them there were patrolling."

"About two months after Gerald and I saw the man in the park, the troupes that were wandering about gathered en masse at all of the exits to the city and began to march towards the center, executing anyone they could find along the way. A lot of our dear friends died during that dreadful march, Arnold. Some just disappeared, not leaving any sort of clue as to their whereabouts. Our ragtag group of rebels disbanded and hid all over the city. The men disappeared shortly after their rampage, thinking they'd dispatched of everyone, but we survived."

"We've been hiding out in this fort for nearly two years now. After the strange men left, the people left over began looting the remaining shops and stealing anything of any value. Any person who stood in the way of the violent ones was cut down by the same makeshift weapons that had been used to fend off the invaders," explained Stinky, "Bands of criminals wander the streets here at night, and even sometimes during the day. We've tried to get in touch with the outside world, but since the men cut off the power grid and destroyed all of the roads out, we haven't seen anyone outside of here. That is until you came along, Arnold."

"The city is well beyond saving, man. There's just no way we can really do anything for it. As for getting out, that can be done. It's not easy, but it can be done," said Sid, "We can get you out of here, Arnold. This is not a place you want to be."

The room fell eerily silent after the completion of the tale. I wasn't quite sure what to say to Stinky, Sid and Phoebe.

I was sure that I needed to be here, though.

I had someone to find.


	4. Chapter 4

**It amazes me that no one has asked why Arnold left yet! Unfortunately, that's not being revealed in this chapter. I don't think it quite fits here.**

**This chapter was written while listening to "Something I Can Never Have," by Nine Inch Nails and "Momma Sed," by Puscifer.**

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><p>Chapter 4.<p>

"You look rough, man. Want some?" Sid asked, offering me a small roll of white paper that was issuing thick smoke from one end.

"No thanks. Not this time," I replied dazedly. Sid had already clouded the room and I could feel my thoughts disconnecting.

I got up to stretch my legs once again. I had been sitting against the wall for quite some time and my knees had gotten stiff. I crossed to a door on an adjacent wall and opened it. On the other side was a windowed room with several seats and small tables scattered throughout. I took a seat at the nearest table and rested my head in my hands. There was so much on my mind now. By answering one question, the trio had brought so many more to my attention. Who were those strange men? How many and which of our 'dear friends' had been slaughtered on that day? Why had they not left the city if Sid knew a way out?

"Arnold?" Phoebe came in to the room and sat at the table with me. In this light, it became very clear how much she had aged in the ten years I'd been gone. She looked almost forty, but I knew she was no older than I.

For a long period, we were both silent and unmoving. I felt her staring at me, wondering what was going on in my head – all the while, I was searching for something to say, something to break the uncomfortable silence. It was then that I remembered the little pink journal. I dropped my bag to the floor and opened it, hurriedly rummaging through the scant supplies I'd brought along. I hadn't planned to be in Hillwood for very long. I knew that it would only remind me of...

There I went, thinking about it again. This was still not the time. There were much more important matters at hand. I pulled the book to the surface and placed it firmly on the table.

"Did you know about this?" I asked Phoebe.

"Is that...? Helga's journal? Where did you get that?"

"So you did know. What can you tell me about it?"

"I never got to read any of them. I just know that she wrote in them all the time."

"Wait, _them_? There were multiple books?"

"Yes, Arnold. She must have had fifteen or twenty different books that she carried around."

"But you never got to read any of them?"

She'd never told Phoebe about _that_ part of herself. Phoebe reached across the table and placed her hand upon the faded cover.

"May I?"

"Go ahead," I replied.

She leafed through the pages, eyes growing wider with each turn. Helga had kept a lot more secrets than I realized. If even Phoebe hadn't read this book, the fact that she gave it to me was monumental.

Phoebe gently touched one of the pages and muttered so quietly that I almost missed it.

"Ice cream..."

"What?" I asked, puzzled by the two little words.

"Nothing, nothing," she said hastily.

She closed the book and replaced it on the table. It was quite clear that she wasn't sure how to react to the book. It was also clear that there was something she and the others weren't telling me.

Something that could potentially be very important.

"This is part of why I'm here, Phoebe. I mean, it wasn't at first, but after I got here, I read it and decided that I had to find her. To tell her how I feel. I guess I'd just repressed it all before. She was such a good friend towards the end of my time here and I didn't want to ruin that."

Phoebe remained silent. She paced in the room, muttering to herself from time to time. I could tell from the crazed look on her face that she was having another one of her internal debates, but over what, I couldn't be sure.

"I've got to find her. You were her best friend. Surely you know something?"

Phoebe simply shook her head as tears began to run down her cheeks.

"She disappeared during the attack... I haven't heard from her since..."

It was as if I'd just been doused in frigid water. For a moment, my breath caught in my chest and everything looked as if it was far off in the distance. All of the words in my head became a huge swirl of letters, none of which I could sort out. I stared at her in disbelief. Had she really just said that?

I stood up and walked away from the table, returning to the entry room of the fort. Phoebe called after me as I closed the door, but I ignored her. I opened the hatch and began to descend the ladder.

"Whoa, man! Where do you think you're going?" Demanded Sid, nearly choking on vapors.

"Out," I calmly replied, "I have business to attend to."

"Not without one of us," chimed Stinky as he entered the room, "It ain't safe out there and you have no way to defend yourself."

With Stinky and Sid in tow, I exited the tree house and began to walk toward the street. I knew exactly where to start my search, but getting there would prove to be slightly difficult given the state of affairs. I looked both ways down the street and started off heading right down the sidewalk. I ignored Sid's inquiries regarding our destination – he'd see soon enough.

The street signs were all faded and it was difficult to tell exactly where we were. Thankfully, there were landmarks like Sunset Arms and Gerald Field to help with my sense of direction. The peeling billboards looked down on us with their eerie, larger-than-life representations of celebrities pushing Yahoo soda or cruise lines for overweight children. It was hard to shake the feeling that we were being watched, even through the painful quiet that rang with the echoes of our footsteps.

Suddenly, there was our destination. It stood three stories tall with bleached pink shutters and crumbling bluish-gray walls. I walked to the door and gave it a push, only to find it stuck. I shoved it once more, but to no avail. It wasn't going to give.

"Step aside," instructed Sid.

He walked up to the door carrying what seemed to be a baseball bat with a rusty fan blade screwed to the end so that it looked like a pinwheel. He struck the blade on the steps causing it to spin, then swung the bat with all his might into the door. Within a matter of minutes, he had created a hole large enough to look through. He peered into the house and announced,

"There's a bookshelf in the way. Someone is still in there."

My heart leaped at this discovery. Could she still be here? I had to find out. I ran to the alley beside the house, searching for something that might be of use in moving the shelf. Lying in the dumpster, I found a solid steel curtain rod. I wondered to myself how it could ever have been practical, but quickly pushed the trivial thoughts from my mind and returned to the task at hand. With the help of Sid and Stinky, the bookshelf was toppled into the hallway and the door swung open with a faint creak. I tossed the steel rod to the sidewalk and we cautiously ventured into the house. There was no telling who or what we might find in these darkened hallways.

But I pressed onward, hoping for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, guys. Sorry this took so long. I've been working on moving in to a new apartment, so the story is going to be edited a bit less frequently. This is just the first part of chapter five, so keep your eyes peeled for more on this chapter! Also, it tou****ches a bit more on some of Arnold's past towards the end of the chapter! I received a question from chapter one that I'd like to answer quickly. When Arnold says, "On the bottom corner, is that... bl-?" He was in the middle of saying "blood," but was interrupted by the arrival of Stinky. While it's not necessarily important to the story in any way, I thought I'd clear that up. anyways, this is the update of Chapter 5! R&R!**

Chapter 5.

I moved carefully through the parlor of the house, watching the floor for any sort of vermin that may be living there. The soft skittering and rustling of objects in the room around me confirmed that there was at least one family of rats. The faint smell of mold and mildew clung to the air in the building. It was very different from the way I remembered it.

"Willikers, Arnold. What kind of business could you possibly have in a dump like this?"

He wouldn't understand. Not just yet. I would explain everything to the pair of them soon. They would have to know, whether we found her here or not. It's not in the nature of people to follow blindly on a mission they're not sure of.

"I'm looking for a very old friend," I explained.

"But here? Why on Earth would you want to look in Big Bob's old house?"

Even after growing up, we'd always called him Big Bob. The business was, "Big Bob's Beepers," after all.

"Because I think there might be something important in here somewhere. They'd be small books, no larger than a lunch box."

Then, it hit me. If those books were anywhere in this house, they'd be in Helga's old room. I motioned to Sid and Stinky to follow me up the stairs. They were as creaky and rotten as the stairs in Sunset Arms had been, but the soft carpet that lined them muffled our footsteps.

We stood silently for a moment when we reached the second landing, straining our ears for any signs of movement larger than a rodent, but there was still nothing. I reached in my bag and retrieved my flashlight, clicking it on to scan the walls in search of Helga's door.

"There!" I quietly exclaimed, pointing towards a door still marked with her name.

I approached the door and gripped the knob. We were getting close to a moment of truth. The unknown contents of this room had the potential to save one life or ruin another.

The room was destroyed. The carpet was ripped and spattered with dried dark fluids, the walls were filled with holes, the furniture was in pieces spread all across the room and there were papers everywhere. I began to doubt the likelihood of finding any more of Helga's books with the house in its ruined state.

I entered the room and shined my light around, hoping to catch a glimpse of some sort of hint to either the whereabouts of the books or the author, but there was little to be seen. I walked carefully through the debris to the door of her closet and twisted the rusty handle with some difficulty. I wrenched the door open and peered inside, still shining my light ahead of me. Through the dust and cobwebs, I very briefly saw a glare off of something shiny in the back. Pushing aside the clothes still on their hangers, I stuck my head into the very back of the large closet to find what appeared to have been a crudely constructed shrine and a large, brown leather trunk held closed with belt-like straps. I slowly undid the buckles and wedged my fingers under the lid, easing the trunk open with both Sid and Stinky looking over my shoulder with intense curiosity. I couldn't believe the treasure I had just stumbled upon. There, inside the giant leather trunk, were at least two dozen -

"Hold it right there!" Exclaimed a voice from behind us.

* * *

><p>We turned around to the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway, blocking our escape. Before any of us could react, a harsh smog filled the small room and everything went black.<p>

I awoke some time later in a groggy daze. My mouth was completely dried out and my head felt as if it were about to split in two. I wasn't sure where I was, how I'd gotten there or where Sid and Stinky may have wound up. All I knew was that it was dark and I'd been bound to a chair. I pulled at the zip-ties binding my wrists, but to no avail. I was trapped.

The voice of the silhouette still echoed in my mind – the singsong nature of it was all too familiar, but I couldn't put a face with it.

Suddenly, the memory hit me like a sack of bricks – the lilting tone, the sticky sweetness and the polite mannerisms...

"Lila," I muttered to myself.

But why had she attacked us? What was she doing in the Pataki's house? Maybe she'd known that I would one day return and was guarding it on the off-chance that I'd come around and find Helga's hidden treasures.

"The chest!" I thought. I had no idea how far we were from it, but I had to find Sid and Stinky so we could go back and get it.

But first, I had zip-ties to deal with.

I continued to struggle fruitlessly with the makeshift handcuffs, occasionally taking breaks to let the agitated flesh on my wrists rest. No matter how hard I fought, the plastic ties would neither loosen nor break. After what seemed like forever, I gave up. The only things I was gaining from the squirming were scarred wrists.

Suddenly, a door opened off to my left and the silhouette of Lila walked through gripping what appeared to be a large pair of scissors. She walked into the small room and stood beside me. I could sense that she was looking down at me from where she stood.

She reached down and placed her hand on top of my head. I wasn't sure what to expect at that point. I had no idea what the years had done to her. There was no way to tell if she was out to kill or protect me.

She began to gently run her fingers across the top of my head, slowly drawing circles in my hair.

"It's been an ever so long time, Arnold," She said softly, almost whispering the words, "I've missed you just ever so much."

She leaned down and put her face by my ear. I could hear her breathing, slow and steady, almost calm. She was no stranger to holding captives.

"What was it that brought you back, Arnold? I'm oh so certain that there's no one left for you here. Anyone that you really cared enough about to come back for in Hillwood died or fled a long time ago."

So she knew. I felt a hot rage welling up inside me. I pulled at the cuffs once again, but still achieved nothing.

"I see there's still some fight in you. That's ever so cute, Arnold. Just ever so cute."

She stood back up and looked down at me, her long red hair falling in wavy locks around her face. She'd abandoned the braids after elementary school, opting for either a ponytail or just leaving her hair down. She'd been quite the looker in middle school.

"Why are you still trying to escape me, Arnold? It barely worked before, and this time I've made sure you can't get away."

"Go to hell, Lila," I spat.

"Such language, Arnold. I'm ever so certain that your Grandfather wouldn't approve."

That was the final straw. She clearly was not planning to play nice. With a mighty tug from both arms, I snapped the plastic bands that had been restraining my wrists, quickly got to my feet and slammed her into the wall, my hand around her throat. The scissors she had held clattered to the floor. Her hands flew up to mine, clawing for release.

"You don't fucking know what my grandfather would think. Don't speak for him," I said angrily. The fear I saw reflected in her eyes was exactly what I had been searching for.

"Now," I said, "What have you done with Sid and Stinky?"

She sneered and laughed, looking directly into my eyes all the while. That was her way of saying that she wasn't going to tell me where they were.

"Alright," I thought, "Let's play hardball."

I threw her to the floor and put my foot on her stomach. I reached down and picked up the scissors she'd carried in with her. I crouched down and pinned her wrists under my knees. I put the scissors up to her throat and tilted her head backwards with my free hand.

"You're working with a very short time frame right now, Lila. It would be in your best interests to tell me what you've done with them."

Her breathing had quickened to shallow, raspy breaths. She was terrified. She had not expected such a drastic role reversal to take place. I had her right where I needed her.

"They're just in the other room," she said hastily, "Your backpack – it's sitting right outside the door."

She knew what kind of danger she was in. I hadn't even needed to ask where my things were.

But how could she not realize she was in danger? She'd brought up a part of the past that would have been better left untouched.

"Alright, Lila. I want you to consider what I have to say _very_ carefully before you make your decision here. Is that clear?"

She nodded her head feebly. I could feel her trembling in fear underneath my weight.

"Good. I'm looking for Helga and I need that chest full of books in her closet. Here's where you get to make a choice. In order to go get that chest, I have to get up."

Her eyes widened. She could already tell what I was getting at.

"When I get up, I can either let you live and you can stay the fuck out of my way, or I can drive these scissors through your neck right now."

She looked up at me, tears streaming from her eyes. I almost felt bad for how much I'd frightened her. She looked almost pitiful lying there with her pale neck exposed, waiting for the sliver blade of the scissors to tear through the soft flesh.

"Arnold, it's ever so sweet that you're looking for Helga. I promise I'll be good if you let me up. I'll even help you look for her if you'd accept my help."

I looked at her warily. Just minutes ago, she'd been standing over me with a giant pair of scissors in her hand, and now she wanted to help me? Something didn't quite add up.

"You understand that I'm extremely hesitant to believe that you want to help, right?"

She nodded again.

"Okay. I'm going to let you up, but I'm holding on to the scissors. Bear in mind – one wrong move..." I trailed off. I'd let her fill in the blanks on her own.

She shuddered visibly and nodded in agreement. She stood up and rubbed her throat as I released her. I faced her the entire time, keeping the scissors raised in case she tried anything funny.

"I'll go release Sid and Stinky," she said in a defeated tone.

"One more set of hands can't hurt the search," I thought. I followed her out of the room and into the light, prepared to continue my hunt for Helga G. Pataki.


	6. Chapter 6

**Whew! Sorry this took so long, guys! It was certainly one hell of a semester! But, hey – the new update is here! Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Whatever holiday you celebrate!**

**I've noticed that in telling this story, I've left a lot unexplained. You know what that means? Plenty of space to write other stories to parallel this one or provide background information. I'm just setting myself up for more writing. Also, get ready, because things get a little heavy in this one. But, yeah, here's chapter 6! R&R!**

Chapter 6.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness in the next room. I reached over and grabbed my backpack from beside the door and gave my eyes a few moments to adjust to the change. Sid and Stinky were indeed here, both still unconscious and tied to their respective chairs.

"We're only across the hall... I didn't touch the chest, either..." Lila said softly. I could tell she was still terrified.

"How long was I out?" I demanded.

"Only for about an hour," she replied.

Only an hour? This was promising. If Helga was still alive and I still had a chance to find her, I needed all the time I could get. Naturally, I would have preferred to remain conscious and not run into Lila again. After our brief stint in high school, I could have done without ever seeing her again.

I crossed to Sid and Stinky and sliced the zip ties encircling their wrists. As I was releasing them, they began to come to.

"Willikers, Arnold... What happened?" Stinky inquired.

I nodded over my shoulder towards Lila and he instantly understood what was going on. I picked his lead pipe up from the floor and handed it to him.

"You'll need to keep an eye on her, Stinky. I'm not sure she's exactly trustworthy yet."

I knew that she probably was not going to cooperate for as long as I'd like, but at least telling Stinky to keep watch would buy me some time to get any information I could out of her.

I walked out into the hallway on my own, crossing back to Helga's room and the trunk containing the books. The darkness of the hallway contrasted intensely with the light coming from within the room I'd just left. The floorboards creaked under the stained carpet as I slowly walked to the door.

As I entered the room, a million thoughts began to whiz about in my head – so many that it was difficult to discern what any of them were. I knew that in order to clear them up, I'd just have to read the stash of books.

I sat down beside the trunk and pulled out the first book. It was colored a dark red and was held shut by a small bronze clasp. I undid the buckle and pulled the covers apart with trembling hands. The book was clearly one of Helga's later works; the handwriting was much more mature than it had been at the beginning of the pink book. Much of it seemed very resigned, almost as if she was ready to give up hope that I would ever think of her as more than just a friend.

There was clearly much more to the situation than I had originally thought.

Accompanying the poetry and observations focused on me in this book, there were also entries written about life at home. Obviously, I'd seen how Big Bob had treated Helga - hell, we all saw it. When he wasn't neglecting her, he was usually yelling at her. If what was written in this book was the truth, though, then she'd been much worse off than any of us could have possibly known. It wasn't just on rare occasions that he'd treated her this way.

It never stopped.

As I read, tears welled up in my eyes. I could no longer make out letters on the page, so I closed the book and sat it by my side.

"Shit..." I murmured, raising my hand to wipe my eyes.

I wasn't sure if I could read another diary like the one I had just put down. Almost as if by some unnatural force, though, I reached into the trunk and pulled out another. This one was black, the leather of the cover was tattered and the edges of the pages were stained brown with age. The spine cracked quietly as I opened it to reveal not a diary, but a sketch book.

It was filled with drawings of just about every landmark in the city. None of them were particularly amazing, but they certainly weren't just doodles. I flipped through the pages, soaking in the drawings of the bridges and train stations throughout Hillwood as they had once been. As I turned to the final page, I saw that she had written a short note.

"Just in case you ever return here... Just in case you ever find this... Remember Hillwood as it was, not as it is. These were all for you, APS."

It was signed with her name and a little heart.

I stared at the note as a rush of emotions swirled in my chest. It was then that I wept with more intensity than I ever had before.

"Oh, God..." I whispered to myself.

What had I done?

It was at that moment that Sid peered into the closet.

"Arnold? Are you...alright?" He asked cautiously.

I looked back at him through a haze of tears, searching for words that wouldn't come. I could tell that he could sense I was struggling with something that he didn't understand.

"Hey, man, I'm here to help you as much as I can. Just tell me what I need to do," he offered.

Without waiting for any sort of instruction, he began to rummage through the trunk. He lifted out stack after stack of books, all of which appeared to be journals and diaries written by the same lovesick girl I once knew. After a few moments, he paused, almost as if he'd realized something.

"Wait a minute... What's this?"

I looked up at Sid and saw that he was carefully peeling an envelope off of the inside of the trunk's lid. It was slightly yellowed, but it was still sealed and was in relatively good condition.

"It just says, 'To: Football-head.' I think this one's for you, buddy. Want me to read it for you?"

I shook my head. I wasn't sure that I could take any more of what I'd been reading, but if there was an envelope addressed to me inside of this trunk, I reasoned that I should be the one to read it.

He extended the envelope to me and I took it from him slowly, staring at the flowing cursive in which the words on it were printed. It was certainly more recent than anything I'd read so far.

I began to grow anxious. Could this be some sort of clue? Had Helga known I'd come back and find this?

My only choice was to open the letter and find out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Before you dig in to this chapter, there are a few things I'd like to say.**

**First off, I'm sorry this one took so long. I realize that it's been six months. I've been neglecting my writing. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up with it a little bit better now.**

**Second, this chapter is kind of short.**

**It's just the letter that Helga left for Arnold. Maybe it will clear up some questions you may have from previous chapters.**

**I'll hopefully have another chapter within the next few days. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to take it from here, but I suppose we'll find out, now won't we? ;)**

**Anyways, here's "The Letter."**

**Enjoy! And as always, R&R!**

"Arnold,

There are so many things I need to tell you, yet I only have a short time to write this letter. If you're reading this, you've no doubt already heard what has happened to Hillwood.

The men that came to our city have gathered at all exits to Hillwood. We're all trapped inside the city limits. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to see you again, so I'm writing this letter in the hopes that it will survive the oncoming mayhem and that you will one day find it.

You will find a map of Hillwood and a key enclosed with this letter. I cannot say what the key is for in this letter on the off-chance that someone other than you finds this letter first. The answer, however, you can find within the diary I gave to you before you left.

If you happen to see Phoebe, tell her I'm sorry that she hasn't heard from me. There are a lot of things that I need to explain, but have not had the time to.

These men in Hillwood did not choose the city at random.

Bob's beeper store was much more than a beeper store.

There's a lot that went on behind the scenes that even I don't know about, but I do know that something very sinister was going on in there – sinister to the point that Bob wouldn't talk about work at home anymore.

I did some investigating on my own. I learned enough to get a general idea of what's going on now, as well as some things that happened in the past – things that have affected all of us.

Your grandfather... What happened was no accident. He and Bob never really got along. Your grandfather knew a lot about the crooked business practices Bob took part in. He threatened to leak the information to the public, and Bob wouldn't have that.

He hired a man to slip substantial amounts of Potassium Chloride into your grandfather's food over a period of time.

Your grandfather did die of heart failure, but it was not natural, in spite of what the doctors may have told you.

Bob's influence reached much farther than you might realize.

With your grandfather silenced, Bob was able to continue his practices.

But then, he found out that I knew about what he was up to. He confronted me about it not long after you left. I tried to convince him that I had told no one about his crooked business, and I thought he believed me.

I was wrong.

After some time, the strange men began to show up in Hillwood.

Bob wouldn't admit it, but I knew that he'd brought them here.

Now, they're after me.

I have to hide. I can't stay in this house. It's not safe.

I can't say specifically where I am for the same reason that I cannot say what the key is for, but you can find the answer in my sketch book. Use it with the map that I've left you. If you're still as smart as I remember, you'll have no problem finding me.

I only hope you arrive before it's too late.

With Love,

HGP"


End file.
